


Radiance

by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)



Series: Iridescence [2]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Deleted Scene, Fluff, M/M, completely deep fried in cheese, shameless shameless shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthegripofahurricane/pseuds/raisuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>L takes Light on a date, including all of the things a date should have: wine, gratuitous french, and pondering on the direction of a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiance

**Author's Note:**

> I normally try to upload every friday, but because of mental illness being a bitch, i still haven't got it edited or beta'd (and let me tell you, my unedited writing is not something you want to see.)  
> The original draft of chapter 3 of Iridescence was around 9k, so i cut it down by deleting the scene since it wasn't really relevant to the plot. However, I do like the scene, and people on tumblr expressed interest in reading it (Meg) AND I felt lazy uploading nothing.  
> Warning: this is very cheesy. Unbelievably cheesy. Seriously. 
> 
> Thanks to Elise/Devilinthebox for translating. I bet she forgot about doing it.

****

“I’ve heard that English food is really bad.”

 

“That’s unfair. England doesn’t have much of a cuisine to speak of, and anyway, you just can’t get the cheap—” L’s words teetered off, and he scowled. “Never mind. You know what England is good for? Attracting foreign and talented chefs  who subsequently open a restaurant. This place is Italian.”

 

“Since when do you like food which isn’t found at the tip of a food triangle?”

“It would be hard live life well living on sugar alone. In fact, I imagine it would be hard living at all.” He looked at the floor, in something that Light could’ve mistaken for shyness. “Here it is.”

 

The corner of Light’s mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. He stepped into the restaurant, small and squat and half empty. L began to speak to the host in low Italian, and the host pointed them to a small table in the corner.

Light closed his eyes for a moment, and could almost convince himself they were a normal couple, who went out for dates to Italian restaurants and to cafés around London. When L acted this mild, he could almost believe it.

 

“You speak Italian?” Light asked, raising an eyebrow, “You never cease to surprise me.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“So… how many languages do you speak?”

 

L shrugged. “Eight. Give or take.”

 

Light blinked at him disbelievingly. “Really? What do you mean by ‘give or take’?” He took his seat across from L, flashing him a playful smirk.

 

“All to varying degrees in fluency. I can hold conversation in quite a few more, but I would be hesitant to call myself fluent.”

 

“Which are you best at?”

 

“English. I speak Japanese well, as you know, as well as Korean, Mandarin and French. And you?”

 

“Just Japanese and the mandatory languages they teach in high school. So, English and Mandarin. Passable French.”

 

“Passable? Peut-être que tu devrais travailler à t'améliorer, ce n'est pas comme si tu avais autre chose à faire. (Passable? Perhaps you ought to work on improving it, then. It’s not as if you have much else to do.)

 

“…That was not an invitation to start speaking French.” Light said with a slight scowl.

 

L cocked his head playfully, in a manner that reminded Light of a bird.  “Depuis quand est-ce que tu refuses un défi, Light?” (Since when do you refuse a challenge, Light?)

 

Light sighed heavily. “D'accord. Mais ne parle pas trop vite.” (Fine. But don’t speak too fast.)

 

L started to talk rapidly, happily ignoring Light’s request. “Pour être honnête, normalement, je ne t'inviterais pas à sortir mais tu avais l'air triste. Même si tu as des raisons d'en douter, je n'aime pas te voir comme ça. Bref, je vais t'acheter une bouteille de vin très chère et on dira que c'est ton cadeau d'anniversaire.” (Normally I wouldn’t take you out, but you seem upset. Even if you think otherwise, that’s not something I really want to see. Anyway, I’ll buy you an expensive bottle of wine and we’ll call it a birthday present.)

 

Light stared at him blankly. He’d only caught around half of L’s words. “Pardon?” He asked dumbly.

 

“What I’m trying to say is,” L said in a slow, deliberately condescending tone, “is happy birthday.”

 

“Ha. Funny. I never knew that took so many words in French.”

 

“It’s a rough translation.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Nineteen,” L mused, “an interesting age.”

 

“Do you say that as my wise and worldly elder?”

 

“I suppose. It’s an age between adolescence and adulthood. It’s both and neither. You still have the excuse of naiveté, but, in much of the world, you’re legally an adult. Of course, it goes both ways. People expect you to be inexperienced about the ways of sex and romance” L looked at him through half-lidded eyes, “but, you’re physically mature.”

 

A waitress appeared in front of them, parading a large and expensive bottle of wine. L gestured for her to pour it, and turned back to Light after she disappeared.

 

“So, what exactly were you doing when you were nineteen?”

 

“Basically what I’m doing now. Except I was younger. And my hair was shorter,” he eyed Light over his glass, “And you weren’t there.”

 

Light mirrored L’s actions, taking a sip of his wine, and doing his best to hide the disgusted face the drink engendered.

 

L gave him a vaguely amused smile. “Not a fan of wine, Light?”

 

“I don’t normally drink it.” He admitted, looking slightly bashful.

 

“Fair enough. But if, you’re not drinking it, I’ll have no choice but to drink the whole thing myself.”

 

“That must be hard for you.”

 

“I’ll cope.”

 

They didn’t speak, L gazing fondly at his wine and Light watching him. L looked at alcohol like an old, forgotten lover.

 

“I didn’t know you had such an affinity for the stuff, L.” He asked, suspicion leaking into his tone.

 

“What can I say?” L looked down at the glass thoughtfully, “Sugar wasn’t my first love.”

 

“Really? I wouldn’t peg you for the type. How exactly does that increase your mental capability?”

 

“Alcohol’s a relaxant. It makes you do the things you want to do but don’t because you have restraint. You take more risks.”  L said, a playful lilt to his tone, “A blessing and a curse.”

 

“Then you moved on to sugar?”

 

“I moved on to several things. I tried excessive exercise, not eating, eating vegan, smoking like a chimney.” He paused, “Stimulants of a more literal variety.”

 

Light raised his eyebrows, “Legal or otherwise?”

 

“Both.”

 

Light considered L’s words, surprised but unsure of why. It seemed obvious, really, after looking at L anyone’s guess would be that he was on something or another.

 

“You know,” Light said, “I think you’re even stranger when you act like a person.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You go around, acting like you’re some omniscient, omnipotent force of nature. It’s strange to think of you drinking, or wondering which things will make your mind work best. It’s like seeing God taking a cigarette break.” He eyes flitted over L’s impassive, blank, face. “It’s just… interesting to see.”

 

The waitress bustled back over, asking them whether or not they decided. L and Light looked from one another, both realizing they hadn’t even touched the menu.

 

“I’ll have the linguine.” L said quickly.

 

“Uh… I’ll have that too.” Light added, unsure exactly of what linguine was.

 

The waitress disappeared again, and Light turned to L with a scowl.

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t even look at the menu.”

 

“There’s always a linguine,” L said dismissively.

 

“You don’t know what’s with the linguine.”

 

“I like surprises.”

 

“You loathe surprises.”

 

“With criminal investigations and homicide, I admit, I’m not the biggest fan of surprises.” L hesitated,  “But I don’t hold linguine to the same standard. And you didn’t have to get the linguine too.”

 

“I didn’t know what to say.”

 

“You’re ridiculous. You can just tell her you want to wait, you know.”

 

“That would seem rude…”

 

“Whatever. You’ll love the linguine, Light.”

 

“Can we talk about something else? Just drop the linguine.”

 

“That would be an awful mess to clean off the floor.”

 

“You’re not funny.”

 

“You wound me.” L said mournfully.

 

Light ignored him, taking another sip of his wine. “This isn’t so bad. Once you get used to it.”

 

“I wouldn’t recommend getting too used to it, if I were you.”

 

They were both quiet, and for a moment the only noise was the bustling of the restaurant around them, and the clinking of knives and forks against china.

 

“Thank you,” he told L quietly, “Thank you. For this.” He looked down, gesturing to their surroundings. “I appreciate it. Really.”

 

“It’s my pleasure.” L said, not meeting his eyes. Light paused, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

 

“You know,” he said, “when it’s like this I could almost kid myself we’re like normal people.”

 

“I feel the same way,” L said, “It feels futile, though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“What with the way we are,” he replied with a sheepish smile, “I’m not sure we’d ever be able to be normal.”

 

“The way we are?”

 

“I think both of us are too intelligent to really experience the world the way most people would.”

 

“How modest.”

 

“But not untrue.”

 

“Do you think we’d meet?” Light asked, “if things were more normal?”

 

“Unlikely. We most likely wouldn’t be in the same country.”

 

“But if we did. Happen to meet, that is. What do you think would happen?”

“I admit, I don’t think I’d like you.” L deadpanned, “At least at the start. Before I found your more allusive charms.”

 

“Allusive charms?” Light snorted, “There’s nothing allusive about my charm. And what makes you think you wouldn’t like me?”

 

“I don’t know whether or not you realize this, but has it ever occurred to you that you could come across as rather proud?”

 

Light snorted. “You can talk.”

 

“I’m not denying anything. Anyway, I can at least admit my hypocrisy, and I know I’d find your cockiness annoying.”

 

“This so-called ‘cockiness’… if I wasn’t smart, what makes you think it would exist at all?”

 

L’s eyes skimmed Light’s face absently, “You have your other merits,” he said simply, “Conventionally attractive people don’t generally need brains or humility to know that people will like them.”

“‘Conventionally attractive’? God, Ryuzaki, don’t flatter me too much.”

 

L ignored his comment, and continued. “But who knows? Maybe the ice around your heart would melt and you’d become slightly more tolerable. Besides,” L tipped his glass slightly, “I’m only human.”

 

Light furrowed his brow. “What do you mean by that…?”

“My immunity to the charms of pretty boys is only finite.”

 

“Hmm. And what makes you think you’d see past it in the first place?”

 

“I like to think of myself as an excellent judge of character.”

 

“But in this world, we’re not intelligent, right?”

 

“We never mentioned emotional intelligence, Light.”

 

“That’s intelligence all the same.”

 

“You’re thinking this through too much. You’re food will be here soon, focus on that.”

 

Light laughed lightly, “It better be good.”

 

“It will be.”

 

Light could get used to this. He could get used to the waxy candlelight, he could get used to the tempestuous foreplay and lazy banter. In many ways, he envied the L and Light from this imaginary world, where their brains were wired normally and inevitability wasn’t everywhere they looked, like an omnipresent _momento mori._

Light wondered if he’d even be _compatible_ with mundane life. Even now, lost in a maze of smoke and mirrors, Light found himself waiting for the pace to pick up, and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for something. Whether it was for something to happen to him or for him to do something--he couldn’t be sure.

 

Perhaps it was his intelligence—because he knew that in many ways, L was the same.

 

The food came and any conversation was lost—at least on L’s part. Light didn’t mind too much; the silence was comfortable, and he was tired.  

 

“I want things to change.” He said finally, making L look up. L’s eyes were sad, but he nodded for Light to continue.

 

“I can’t live like this, you know that.” He took a deep breath in, gathering his thoughts. “But I don’t want us to change.”

 

L didn’t reply, simply nodding numbly instead. “I’m taking you out because I want you to be happier…” He hesitated, “But I don’t know if I can ever make you truly happy; I’m not even sure if anything can.”

 

**Light let the words wash over him, and under his breath, told L he wasn’t sure if he knew either.**


End file.
